


I love you like a love song baby

by asmithwrite



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Happy Ending, No Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 00:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19120531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asmithwrite/pseuds/asmithwrite
Summary: Music inspired one-shots featuring Lucifer and Chloe. Lyrics, fluff, and love included.





	1. Drunk in Love

_Song: "Drunk in Love" by Beyonce_

“Vodka soda, please,” she smiles at the bartender.

“Coming right up, Ms. Decker.” He smiles back. A familiar face. Within the minute, the drink is poured and in front of her. “On the house,” he winks at her. She thanks him and heads to the dancefloor.

The drink is definitely “on the house.” On  _her_ house. Lux.

 _I've been drinking, I've been drinking_  
_I get filthy when that liquor get into me_  
 _I've been thinking, I've been thinking_  
 _Why can't I keep my fingers off you, baby?_  
 _I want you, na na_  
 _Why can't I keep my fingers off you, baby?_  
 _I want you, na na_

“ _Detective_ ,” he purrs into her ear from behind. “I was not expecting to see you this early.” She wasn’t expecting to be at Lux this early either. The music is loud and the lights are dim. He begins to kiss her neck. Her eyes roll back at the sensation. His hands go to her hips. A familiar spot. He’s warm. She likes warm. She likes his hand placement, too. He smells like whiskey.

“Lucifer,” she breathes. She is already three drinks in. Or what it four? More? She can’t remember. The music is still loud and the lights are still dim. Her brain is cloudy. All she can feel is his hands and his warmth. She wants more. 

One of his hands begins to travel slowly towards her thigh. “I like this dress, Detective,” he tells her. She could feel his wicked grin. She can tell he would like the crimson outfit better on his floor. “You look beautiful.”

It’s all too much. His voice, his warmth, his hands, his smell, his words... She is intoxicated. She wants to move. She wants to move with him. She grabs his hand and begins to pull him towards the dancefloor. His wicked grin is back. He follows her until she stops.

Dark eyes meet light eyes. She is intoxicating to him, and he is intoxicating to her. “Dance with me,” she says. He can tell she is drunk. Drunk off of his liquor and drunk off of him.

The music is somehow louder. The lights are still dim. Other eyes are now watching them, but they only watch each other. 

 _Cigars on ice, cigars on ice_  
_Feeling like an animal with these cameras all in my grill_  
 _Flashing lights, flashing lights_  
 _You got me faded, faded, faded_  
 _Baby, I want you, na na_  
 _Can't keep your eyes off my fatty_  
 _Daddy, I want you, na na_  
 _Drunk in love, I want you_

The drinks continue to set in. She can only focus on him. On feeling him, seeing him, touching him. She wants him.

“I want you,” she whines. He likes this comment. His wicked grin is back. His mouth moves back to her ear. “You have me,” he says. 

 _We woke up in the kitchen saying_  
_"How the hell did this shit happen?"_  
 _Oh baby, drunk in love we be all night_  
 _Last thing I remember is our_  
 _Beautiful bodies grinding off in that club_  
 _Drunk in love_  
 _We be all night, love, love_  
 _We be all night, love, love_

Discarded clothes create a trail to the kitchen. Her crimson dress is next to his suit jacket. Their bodies are still intertwined while asleep. The sunlight finally causes them to stir. It’s the afternoon. She is wearing his shirt and he is wearing an apron. An apron and nothing more. She begins to rise first, confused by where they are. Head pounding, she sits up and looks around.

“Lucifer?”

He groans. She realizes they are on the kitchen floor. He looks up at her. He thinks she looks beautiful like this. She thinks he looks beautiful like this.

They both notice his “Kiss the Chef” apron at the same time. They laugh, not exactly sure how they got here. She does as the apron says.

“I love you,” she whispers. He moves her hair behind her ear. His smile is now soft and indicates the sweetest pain imaginable. 

“I love you, Chloe.” He leans in to kiss her. He can’t get enough of her. She can’t get enough of him. They’re still intoxicated.


	2. Bedroom Hymns

_Song: “Bedroom Hymns” by Florence + The Machine_

She is nervous. He is nervous. For once, words have no place between them. Hands are lost in each others hair. Lips meet. Breath is heavy. Clothes start to scatter across the floor.

They continue to move closer and closer to the bedroom. To his bedroom. To his dark altar. She is still nervous. He is still nervous, yet he has done this a thousand times before. He knows this is different. He feels it. He feels her.

She knows what she is about to do. He knows what she is about to do. Their breath remains heavy. She is going to give herself to the devil. 

She takes to the middle of his bed. She faces him. She has entered his altar. Their eyes meet.

 _This is as good a place to fall as any_  
_We'll build our altar here_  
 _Make me your Maria_  
 _I'm already on my knees_  
 _You had Jesus on your breath_  
 _And I caught him in mine_  
 _Sweating our confessions_  
 _The undone and the divine_

He looks divine to her. He _is_ divine. He stands in front of her as a man, not as an angel. She knows this is no place for his wings. As she soaks him in, as they continue to communicate through silence, her thoughts become more and more unholy. She increasingly  _wants_ to be unholy. Holy water could not help her now. 

Her eyes continue to travel across his body. His eyes stay locked on hers. His eyes are sinful. Wicked. She has seen all of him before, but this feels different. She knows this is different. He closes the distance between them. The heat between them becomes unbearable. His breathing is becoming more erratic. 

 _'Cause this is his body_  
_This is his blood_  
 _Such selfish prayers_  
 _And I can't get enough_

God and Jesus do not reach her lips. Instead, “ _Lucifer_ ,” does. Her fingers dig into his back. He starts to bleed. He’s vulnerable. The most vulnerable he has ever been. He doesn’t feel her nails. He’s too focused on hearing his name come out of her mouth.

She continues to worship him. He continues to worship her. She is breathless and frantic. He continues to lose control. They twist into his sheets. He has never felt this before. Neither has she. 

 _I'm not here looking for absolution_  
_Because I found myself an old solution_  
 _I'm not here looking for absolution_  
 _Because I found myself an old solution_

At moments, he slows down. He looks at her with wonderment. For once, this act is not just about pleasure or desire. He swears he could stay there like this forever. And if he could, he would. 

The sounds he makes are ungodly. All she can focus on is her name on  _his_ lips. “ _Chloe_ ,” he exhales.

At other moments, he speeds up. “All mine,” he says. He is possessive. He wants her to be his and only his. Ruined for anyone else. She is. “All yours,” she responds. She is equally as possessive. “All mine,” she says. “All yours, always yours,” he responds. 

His husky voice finally asks her what she desires. “Don’t stop,” she says. She can’t get enough. Maybe Heaven isn’t for her, she thinks. Not without him.

 _This is his body_  
_This is his love_  
 _Such selfish prayers,_  
 _I can't get enough_

She wakes up the next morning to his fingers playing with her hair. Her head is on his chest. They are covered by his dark satin sheets. She turns her head to look at him. He smiles softly. 

“Hi,” she says innocently. She bites her lip. His smile returns. He has never felt more mortal in his life. He wonders if it is possible for his heart to explode. Can humans die from love? He feels like he might. “Hi,” he replies. 

Their bodies start to intertwine again. They know their time together alone is limited. They know they need to get to work. The alarm goes off. They both groan. 


	3. Your Song

_Song: "Your Song" by Elton John_

He sits at the piano. It is the morning, close to the afternoon. He has yet to properly get dressed, which is unlike his devil-self. Not that anyone who would stumble across his divine body would mind. He lights a cigarette and revels in the inhale. He closes his eyes, enjoying the brief moment of indulgence. For just a second, the cigarette smoke clouds his mind. He exhales and his mind is back to her. 

His hands reach the keys. He starts playing. He loves to play. The songs roll of his fingers naturally, and he lets them. Soon, he finds himself playing a tune he has never played. Quietly, he sings the words too. 

_And you can tell everybody this is your song_  
_It may be quite simple, but now that it's done_  
 _I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind_  
 _That I put down in words_  
 _How wonderful life is while you're in the world_

_What the devil is wrong with you_ , he thinks to himself. He stops playing abruptly.  _What are you, a school girl? Are you going to write her name all over your notebook too?_ He is trying to avoid the truth, in typical devil fashion. He’s got it  _bad_. 

He doesn’t realize, but she has been watching. She got up from his bed about 5 minutes ago. Her alarm clock was his fingertips on the keys.  _Not a bad start_ , she thinks.

He can’t see her but she is smiling - hard. Her smile, at this point, looks a little goofy. She knows it.  _What are you a school girl? Are you going to write his name all over your notebook?_ She tries a deep breath.  _Calm the smile down_ , she continues to think to herself. She knows this is a symptom of a larger disease. She’s got it  _bad_. 

She walks over to the piano. He’s surprised. “ _Oh._  Hello Detective,” he grins, devilishly. “Hi,” she replies. Her smile is still plastered on her face. She wonders if he can hear how fast her heart is beating.  _Keep it cool_ , she thinks. 

“I didn’t peg you as an Elton John fan,” she says. She is hoping this will distract from just how fast her heart is beating. 

Is he...embarrassed? He’s embarrassed. “I can’t deny a classic, Detective.” 

“Were you...were you thinking of anyone during that song?” She knows the answer to this question. She just wants to hear him say it. 

At this point, he begins to close the space between them on the bench. He gets  _just close enough_  to her lips. His dark eyes dart from her eyes to her lips and back. He is lingering, enjoying the intensity of the suspense. He is tempting her and she is tempted. “Just someone special,” he says.

“And how did you meet this ‘someone special’?“ she asks, breathlessly. She is trying to hold back, to not give in. 

“Well, Detective, let me try putting it in human terms,” he continues to linger, a true temptation. “Once upon a time, a girl met a boy and they fell in love.” 

That’s all she needs. She bites the apple and givens in. Their kisses start slow, soft. Romantic. Then his hands reach her hair, and her hands reach his hair. Their kisses become frantic and needy.

Eventually, they make it back to his bedroom. In the quiet moments, she thinks she could spend every morning like this. He thinks he could spend all of eternity like this.  _I’ve got it bad_ , they both think. That, they do.


End file.
